We Know You Remember (100)

You don’t do that kind of thing to the person you love.

She heard the rustling sound of the dragonflies’ wings touching. Thirty beats every second, though they looked completely motionless.

Tell Eira, so she understands.





Chapter 58





“Has Magnus ever talked to you about what happened that evening?”

“Never,” said Eira.

They were in the conference room at the station in Kramfors, somewhere she had sat many times before. It was more relaxed than the interrogation rooms, according to Silje Andersson, but that just made the situation all the more confusing. Like they were there for the morning meeting, just waiting for the others to arrive.

“GG tried to get someone else in to do this,” she had said. “That obviously would’ve been better, but with the summer holidays . . . We’re just trying to get a sense of who he is, and it would be unfortunate if we didn’t hear his family’s side of things. I understand it might be tricky to talk to his mother?”

“You can’t,” said Eira. “She’s not well, she doesn’t know anything.”

That just left her.

“Did you notice a change in Magnus after Lina Stavred’s murder?”

“I thought you wanted to talk about Kenneth Isaksson?”

“OK, let’s put it like this,” said Silje. “Did Magnus change in early July that year?”

Eira had the right not to answer, she could choose to ignore Silje’s questions if she liked. As a close relative, she wasn’t obliged to give evidence. The duty to tell the truth could come into conflict with the desire to protect those closest to you, and the law made an exception for such cases. Yet she was also a police officer, and should stand up for the truth.

“Yes,” she said. “Magnus went off the rails, started doing drugs, but that’s hardly surprising given what happened to the girl he was in love with.”

“Several people have mentioned his jealousy,” said Silje. “What’s your impression of that?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Like I said, we’re not investigating the murder of Lina Stavred, but she does play a part in this. There’s no ignoring that.”

“If it was a murder,” said Eira.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been digging, but you still haven’t found her body. Surely you have to ask why he wouldn’t just hide it in the same place as Kenneth Isaksson’s?”

“What do you think?”

The investigator studied her calmly. Eira had always admired Silje Andersson; her low-key intelligence also applied on an emotional level, which meant she often hit the mark.

But in that moment it seemed more frightening than anything.

Everything Eira said could be interpreted as an attempt to protect her brother. Turned on its head to show the opposite. A tentative thought they had recently been bouncing back and forth could now prove that Eira knew more than she was letting on. Uncertainty might mean she was lying, but so could being dead certain about something.

“I don’t know what I think anymore,” she said. “It’s all just so confusing.”

“I understand.”

Like hell you do, thought Eira.

“Has Magnus ever mentioned the name Kenneth Isaksson?” asked Silje.

“Never.”

“Did they know each other?”

“No idea. Have you found anything to suggest they did?”

“No, but it’s possible they were both in a relationship with Lina. There are several pieces of evidence and witness statements suggesting that’s the case, as you know.”

“Do you know why Kenneth Isaksson ran away up here?”

“He wanted to get out into the wilderness.” Silje leaned back with her hands behind her head, relaxed. “We spoke to a girl who lived in the same collective back then. She wanted him to get away, so she didn’t snitch on him at the time. According to Kenny—that’s what they called him—the wilderness was where you could find true freedom. Away from civilization, which turns free men and women into brain-dead subjects.”

Silje didn’t seem to react to the fact that the interview had taken a turn, that Eira was now asking the questions. Perhaps she also felt torn, or maybe it was just a tactic, to give the impression that they were equals.

“Other than this girl,” she continued, “no one has a good word to say about him—not even his own mother. In and out of treatment homes from the age of fifteen, robbing and assaulting people, including his mum; drug-related crimes, a history of violence. But in this case he’s the victim, and that’s how we have to look at him. Well, you know all that.”

“Magnus isn’t a violent person,” said Eira.

Silje raised an eyebrow, just a fraction, barely even noticeable. Eira might not have seen it if she hadn’t been used to studying the person on the other side of the table, to trying to guess the meaning behind every reaction.

She hadn’t been asked about his violence.

“He sometimes punched the wall and that kind of thing,” she continued. “Or slammed the door when he stormed out, but he never hit anyone at home.”

“Threats of violence are also a form of violence,” said Silje.